


eyes locked, hands locked

by jjokkiri



Category: VICTON (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Feelings Realization, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, How Do I Tag, I'm so sorry, Love Confessions, M/M, Mentions of alcohol, OR IS IT, Pining, Sejun/Subin Are Mentioned Several Times, Seungwoo Is In This For Two Seconds, There Are Constant Mentions Of Ghosts and I Don't Know Why, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:01:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25255822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjokkiri/pseuds/jjokkiri
Summary: Following their usual tradition, Chan sleeps over on the night that Seungsik moves into his new apartment. A lot of things change.Or:Chan thinks it’s weird that he and Seungsik have been friends for so long but they’ve never gone through that‘weirdly crushing on your best friend’phase. It turns out that Seungsik is just really good at hiding it.
Relationships: Heo Chan/Kang Seungsik
Comments: 22
Kudos: 117
Collections: Lucky 7 Victon





	eyes locked, hands locked

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt #300:** Chan thinks it’s weird that he and Seungsik have been friends for so long but they’ve never gone through that ‘weirdly crushing on your best friend’ phase. He brings it up in conversation. Little does he know, Seungsik is just really good at hiding it.
> 
> Title from Red Velvet’s _Eyes Locked, Hands Locked_.

Seungsik is used to change. He’s used to moving.

He’s done it a million times in his life. At this point, it’s a familiar feeling of having his friends lounging on his sofa after they help him move furniture into its proper place.

Seungsik is used to uprooting his life and moving to a completely different city. Seungsik is used to ending phases of his life and moving on to other things. Almost every time he closes a chapter of his life, he starts with finding a new place to call home. It’s a constant change.

And there aren’t very many constants in Seungsik’s life, but he’s grateful for his friends. They’re a constant that he knows he doesn’t have to worry about. He knows they won’t disappear on him.

Or well, he doesn’t need to worry about them disappearing from his life.

He _does_ have to worry about them disappearing on him when he offers to cook a nice, hearty meal for them as a thank you for helping him move into his new apartment. He knows they won’t accept anything more than a simple meal, so he does his best to show his gratitude in the only way he knows.

Seungsik is humble. He knows he isn’t the best chef, but he honestly doesn’t think that his cooking is _bad_ by any standard. It’s certainly nothing to vehemently avoid. He’s lived on his own long enough to know that his cooking can’t _kill_ someone. He’s still well and alive, after all.

Much to his dismay, though, Seungwoo leaves the apartment with an excuse involving his internship and his boss. And shortly after Seungwoo vanishes, Subin and Sejun run out of the apartment blabbering some kind of excuse about their seventh month anniversary after moving in together. It’s cute and romantic but it feels like a stab to Seungsik’s pride.

Only Chan hangs around with him. It’s always only Chan who hangs around.

Even when they first moved into their university dorms, several years ago, only Chan hung around on the sofa after Seungsik got his furniture organized—though, that time had more to do with the fact that Chan was his roommate than the fact that Chan _wanted_ to hang around.

Just having Chan around is enough, though. _Chan has always been enough._

So, with a cute bear-printed apron tied around his waist, Seungsik stands in the kitchen, stirring a pot of kimchi stew. The simmering pot fills Seungsik’s entire new apartment with pleasant spice. It smells good. Chan is starving. And it makes it better because Chan knows he can trust Seungsik’s cooking.

Chan is laying on the couch on the other side of the kitchen counter. The kitchen is open and Seungsik can see him lounging on the sofa if he looks over his shoulder.

It’s quiet in the apartment. It’s a comfortable silence, though.

Chan breaks the silence.

Out of nowhere, he asks, “Do you think it’s weird that you’ve never had a crush on me?”

Seungsik freezes. He stops stirring the pot and places the wooden spoon down. The question takes him completely off guard and he hopes it isn’t obvious. He doesn’t look back over his shoulder at Chan.

Carefully, he asks, “What do you mean?”

“You know,” Chan says. He’s spinning a fidget spinner between his fingers as he stares up at the ceiling, and the whirring of metal filling the silence is beginning to make Seungsik feel anxious. He has no idea what Chan is talking about, but his nerves are threatening to swallow him alone.

Chan continues, “I was just thinking about how Sejun and Subin are dating, now. They’ve been dating for like, almost two years now. But, somehow, I just started thinking about how they’ve been friends for _so_ long and then, _bam!_ They suddenly decided they were in love with each other.” Chan tilts his head, thoughtfully. “I’ve noticed it’s common in movies and stuff, too. The whole thing where you fall in love with your best friend at some point in your life.”

“Sejun and Subin have always been into one another,” Seungsik says. His voice is quiet. “It’s not really that sudden that they decided they were in love with one another. We were all waiting for it.”

Chan shrugs his shoulders. The whirring of the fidget spinner continues. Seungsik doesn’t look at him, but he knows Chan well enough to know how he would react. They’ve known one another for seven years. Seungsik knows Chan like the back of his hand.

The silence settles between them again and it feels odd. Seungsik shifts nervously on his feet.

The conversation treads dangerous waters and Seungsik isn’t sure he’s ready for _this_ kind of change.

Chan purses his lips. He says, “I just think it’s kind of weird that we’ve been best friends for so long, but we’ve never gone through that slightly awkward phase of thinking that we have crushes on each other.”

Seungsik doesn’t reply for a moment.

He busies himself with cutting spring opinions into the pot with a pair of scissors. He places the scissors down on the counter with a soft tapping sound.

“You’ve never had a crush on me?”

Seungsik hopes that he sounds nonchalant. He hopes he isn’t giving anything away with the slight tremor in his voice. It’s too obvious to him but he hopes that Chan doesn’t pick up the clue.

Chan laughs. He scrunches up his nose and leans back against the sofa, “I don’t know. I don’t think I have,” he says. “Why? Have _you_ ever had a crush on _me_?”

Seungsik doesn’t know how to respond.

They’ve known one another for seven years and Seungsik has been in love with him for five.

_Has he ever had a crush on him? Maybe before he decided it was love._

He isn’t ready for this kind of change. This is something he’s supposed to take to the grave with him. It isn’t something that’s supposed to come out in casual conversation. Seungsik swallows hard.

“What if I have?” Seungsik asks. He hopes it sounds casual. He hopes that it sounds like a vague suggestion and that it doesn’t sound like a confession. He hopes it’s something he can brush off. He picks up the wooden spoon and stirs the pot again. He doesn’t need to, but he feels the need to busy his hands with anything. “Does that cancel out the weirdness of it never happening to you?”

Chan stops spinning the fidget spinner. The whirring stops abruptly.

The silence is deafening.

Seungsik waits. His heart pounds in his chest.

“Are you joking?” Chan asks. He sounds uncertain and the end of his sentence hangs in the air like a floating weight. It feels suffocating to Seungsik.

Seungsik winces. It feels like the world is crashing down around him.

He stares down at the pot.

_This wasn’t how he was supposed to see this go down._

He reacts too slowly. He doesn’t take it back in time. He can’t brush it off as a joke.

If he knows Chan like the back of his hand, then he shouldn’t expect anything less from Chan— _from his best friend._ He should have known better than to hope that he could get out of this without exposing his heart. He shouldn’t have taken the bait.

“Sik,” Chan rises from his spot on the sofa. His eyes are wide. _“Seungsik.”_

“What?” Seungsik turns to look at Chan. He grits his teeth, his nerves taking over his body.

“You’ve had a crush on me?” Chan asks.

Seungsik flinches.

_He doesn’t like the way Chan sounds so shocked. It doesn’t feel nice._

He supposes that Chan’s surprise is what he wants, though. All it means is that Chan has never noticed the way that Seungsik’s eyes linger on him a little too long when he smiles, the way he smiles when he’s around him. It means he doesn’t realize that it’s a current thing. It’s supposed to be something good.

It doesn’t feel good.

“Surprise,” Seungsik mutters, weakly. He turns back to the pot and awkwardly stirs it.

“Seungsik.” Chan is right by his side, suddenly. He looks like he’s out of breath, but the sofa wasn’t so far from where Seungsik was standing; he looks like he’s been blindsided by something huge. Maybe Seungsik’s crush on him is something big enough to make him look so frazzled. “You’re serious?”

Seungsik pretends to taste the stew. He knows it’s already fine, but he’s doing anything he can to avoid Chan’s eyes. The feeling in his chest burns. He can’t look Chan in the eyes.

“Maybe,” he murmurs. He turns to look at his spice rack and absently spins it as if he’s looking for something (he isn’t—he’s only looking for any excuse to not look Chan in the eyes). He adds, “This needs more salt.”

“You’re changing the subject,” Chan says. He’s frowning.

Seungsik shrugs, “I said maybe.”

“That’s not an answer, Sik,” he argues.

Seungsik laughs. It’s a hollow sound. It doesn’t sound like him, even to himself.

He shakes his head, “What do you want me to say?”

Chan stares at him.

“When did you like me?” Chan asks. “Why didn’t I ever know about this?”

Seungsik sighs. He looks at Chan, sadly.

“When did I start liking you?” he asks. “Or do you think this is an old crush?”

The realization washes over Chan’s expression like a heavy wave crashed over him.

He looks amazed, he looks shocked.

Seungsik feels his something ugly turn in the pit of his stomach.

 _“You like me,”_ Chan says. “You’re saying you like me. Like… right now.”

Seungsik sighs. He grits his teeth and shrugs his shoulders.

_This isn’t the confession he wanted. He didn’t want to confess like this._

_(He didn’t want to confess ever.)_

“Yeah,” he mutters. “I like you, now.”

He still can’t look at him.

He hopes he comes off as casual. He hopes it isn’t obvious that there’s a part of him that feels bothered that Chan doesn’t feel the same way; a part that feels disappointed.

“Oh.”

He shouldn’t be disappointed, he knows. He tries to convince himself that he isn’t disappointed. He was never hopeful, so he shouldn’t be disappointed. After all, falling in love with your best friend isn’t as common as it is on television, as it is in books.

 _Reality hits hard._ Reality tells Seungsik that he doesn’t get the luck that Sejun and Subin gets.

Chan stares at him blankly.

He gathers himself after a moment. He shakes his head.

“I… I’ve never had this happen to me before,” Chan says.

Seungsik knows that. He doesn’t respond.

“What can I do for you? What should I do? Is there anything I should be doing?” Chan asks. He looks hopeful for some reason. He stands beside Seungsik with his hands shoved into his pockets. He’s standing further than he usually would be.

It feels weird.

“Chan,” Seungsik laughs. It’s empty and pitiful. Seungsik shakes his head. _He pities himself._ He says, “You don’t have to do anything for me. I’m going to be okay. It’s not like I ever expected you to like me back or anything. It won’t change our friendship just because you know, now.” He glances at him, “Or at least, I hope you won’t let it change our friendship. You’re really important to me, Chan.”

Chan frowns.

“You should have told me,” he says.

Seungsik makes a face.

“What would you have done if I told you?” he asks. He tilts his head and looks at Chan, “You don’t like me back. There’s nothing we can do about that. I was just going to carry it to my grave.”

“That sounds sad,” Chan mutters. He looks down at his hands, “There’s really nothing I can do?”

Seungsik offers him a weak smile.

“You can pretend we never had this conversation,” he suggests with a weak shrug. He stabs the wooden spoon back into the pot and sighs. “Or you can pretend that nothing has changed and you’re totally okay with your best friend being in love with you. I’ll get over it at some point.”

Chan leans against the counter. He sighs, “Do you need space? Anything like that?”

“Do _you_?” Seungsik frowns.

Chan shakes his head.

“Stop that,” he says. He’s mirroring the frown on Seungsik’s lips. “You’re doing it again. You’re always thinking of other people before you think about yourself.”

Seungsik stays quiet.

Chan continues, “I’m always with you… does that make it worse? Do you need me to step away from you for a while? Will it help?” He places a hand on Seungsik’s shoulder. “I just don’t want you to feel like shit because I don’t feel the same way, Sik.”

Seungsik sighs. He stares at the pot. He left the heat on for too long without paying attention to it, and the spring onions are overcooked. They look sad and droopy in the pot, unsalvageable.

Somehow, it feels like it’s mocking his feelings. Seungsik grits his teeth.

He doesn’t want to be droopy and unsalvageable like some sad spring onions.

“I always knew you didn’t,” he says. “It doesn’t change anything.”

“You’re being stubborn.”

“I don’t want to be away from you, Chan.” Seungsik heaves out a sigh, “You’re my best friend. You’re my best friend before you’re the person I’m in love with.”

“I’m the same person,” Chan mutters. “I’m so sorry, Sik. I’m so sorry I brought it up.”

Seungsik flashes him a sad smile. _I know,_ his eyes read. Chan looks away.

“I don’t need you to do anything to make me feel better. I just need you to promise me that you won’t avoid me now that you know,” Seungsik says. He turns off the stove and turns to put both of his hands on Chan’s shoulders. “I can live with unrequited love, Chan, but I can’t live without you.”

Chan watches him quietly.

He sighs and nods his head.

He takes a step back and takes Seungsik’s hands into his own.

“Let’s eat, Sik,” he says. His apology hides in his eyes, in the way he looks at Seungsik. Seungsik can’t look him in the eye when Chan looks so apologetic for something that isn’t his fault.

It isn’t his fault that he’s lovable. It isn’t his fault that Seungsik is in love.

Seungsik nods his head and moves to grab the bowls.

“Are you going to pretend this never happened?” he asks, quietly.

Chan shakes his head.

“No,” he says. “But I promise you that I won’t act differently because of it. You’re my best friend, Seungsik.”

_He’s his best friend. That’s all he’ll ever be._

And Seungsik has already taught himself to be okay with it. It’s just a lesson he needs to review; something he needs to remind himself.

As well as he knows that he can’t change a person’s heart, Seungsik knows that Chan is a constant in his life.

At the very least he knows that he doesn’t need to worry about Chan disappearing from his life.

Seungsik hands Chan a pair of chopsticks and a bowl. He watches him, quietly.

“Are you still going to sleep over tonight?”

Chan chuckles.

“Of course,” he says. “Unless you don’t want me to. I can leave.”

“No,” Seungsik shakes his head. “No, you don’t have to.”

“It’s a tradition,” Chan reminds him. He flashes a goofy smile at Seungsik, one that Seungsik is familiar with—one that feels warm. “We always have sleepovers on your first day at a new apartment, just in case ghosts are waiting for you.”

Seungsik rolls his eyes and pushes him gently.

“There’s no such thing as ghosts, Chan,” he says.

He’s smiling despite the way he clicks his tongue at Chan’s remark.

Between them, haunted apartments are a running joke. Ever since Seungsik moved into his first apartment alone, where the only light in the bathroom flickered without warning at ungodly hours of the night, they’ve joked about haunted apartments. The reminder is comforting.

It feels like reassurance that nothing has changed.

Chan shrugs as he turns to set the table.

“You can never be too sure,” he says with a warning tone. It’s playful. He scrunches up his nose, “What would you do if a ghost crept into your room and woke you up in the middle of the night?”

“Nothing is going to wake me up in the middle of the night, Chan,” Seungsik assures him. He’s smiling as he says it, though. It feels comfortable. “What would _you_ be able to do, anyway?”

Chan rolls his eyes.

“I don’t know,” he replies. Then, as if it’s obvious, he nudges Seungsik. _“Protect you?”_

Seungsik hides a smile.

With affection in his tone, he mutters, “Idiot.”

* * *

The truth is that there _aren’t_ any ghosts in Seungsik’s apartment.

Seungsik’s new apartment is completely free of ghosts, or anything spooky for that matter. The guest room doesn’t have any threatening creatures hiding in the darkness. There’s nothing to be afraid of, but Chan still wakes up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat.

It’s three in the morning when Chan wakes up with his heart pounding in his chest and his head spinning. He has Seungsik’s smile on his mind.

It’s weird. It’s _really_ weird.

It’s like a fever dream that washes over him like a distressing wave of heat.

He has an epiphany in the middle of his dreams.

It’s a realization that he’s happy whenever he sees Seungsik smile. A realization that he’s happy whenever he’s near Seungsik and he feels overcome with this feeling that tells him _he_ wants to be the one to make Seungsik happy. And it _isn’t_ because he’s his best friend.

In the blink of an eye, he’s out of bed and running out of the guest room. He’s standing in front of Seungsik’s bedroom door at three in the morning, feeling slightly unhinged with this new revelation. He really doesn’t know how to handle it.

“Seungsik,” he knocks at his best friend’s bedroom door with his other hand on his chest. He looks winded, blindsided. It’s from something else, this time.

Seungsik groggily opens the door to his bedroom with a frown. He leans against the doorframe with his cheek pressed against the door. He looks silly but cute.

“Chan?” he murmurs. He rubs his eyes, “What are you doing? It’s three in the morning.”

He lowers his hands and squints at Chan. He adds, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Seungsik, I take it back,” Chan says.

Seungsik furrows his brows. He looks terribly confused. He’s rightfully confused.

_Did Chan see a ghost? Do they exist?_

“I’m an idiot,” Chan continues. Seungsik looks at him, tilting his head as if staring at Chan from a different angle could explain what the fuck he’s talking about.

“Usually, I would agree…” Seungsik says, carefully. His voice is low, rasped with sleepiness. “But I’m honestly not sure what you’re talking about this time.”

He wasn’t expecting to be woken up by anything, much less by Chan. He has no idea what’s going on.

“I—,” Chan falters as soon as he starts speaking. “I think I lied to you. Like, unintentionally. I didn’t know that I lied to you. I swear I didn’t want to lie to you.”

Seungsik blinks.

“Is this something that needs to be talked about at three in the morning?”

Chan nods, quickly. He exclaims, “Yes!” Then, surprised at the volume of his response, Chan repeats himself more quietly, “I mean, yes.”

Seungsik stares at him weirdly.

“Okay,” he says. Seungsik furrows his eyebrows. “I’m listening. What did you lie to me about?”

Chan should have known that Seungsik was _that_ supportive friend who’d actually sit there and listen to him rant at three in the morning. It’s just _one_ of the things that makes him so wonderful.

Chan shakes it off.

“Okay,” Chan says. He takes a breath, “Promise you won’t laugh? Or think I’m joking?”

Seungsik blinks.

“I don’t think you’d wake me up at three in the morning for a joke, Chan,” he says. “And if you _would_ , then I don’t think I know you as well as I think I do.”

“Awesome,” Chan says. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his pyjamas and takes another deep breath. Seungsik tilts his head, concerned. “Okay, so the thing is…”

He falters as soon as he starts and he just stares at Seungsik.

Seungsik chuckles.

Chan quickly glares at him. “Stop laughing.”

“You’re stalling,” Seungsik says. “What’s making you so nervous?”

“Dude,” Chan says, “I don’t know. I think I like you.”

Seungsik freezes.

He carefully makes eye contact with Chan. There’s something unreadable in his eyes. Chan doesn’t know what it really means, but he knows Seungsik well enough to to know that he feels conflicted. He’s frowning and he isn’t saying anything. It’s dead silent between them.

Chan’s heart pounds in his ears. He wasn’t planning on confessing like this.

This wasn’t what he had in mind when he rushed over to Seungsik’s room in the middle of the night. He didn’t have an actual plan when he threw the covers off his body and ran, but it _really_ wasn’t supposed to turn out like this. Confessions aren’t supposed to look like this.

Chan has watched enough late night dramas to know that they’re not supposed to work like this.

(He supposes it’s only fair, though. _Seungsik_ didn’t get his dream confession, either. Chan just kind of sniped it out of him without even knowing that it was going to happen.)

“Chan,” Seungsik finally says. He sounds so serious that Chan feels a chill of terror run down his spine. Seungsik is frowning. He says, “That’s not funny.”

Chan inhales sharply. “I’m not trying to be funny, Sik.”

Seungsik laughs, humorlessly. Chan winces at the sound.

Seungsik straightens his posture and frowns. He crosses his arms over his chest and says, “I literally just confessed to you and told you to forget about it. You shouldn’t play around like this.”

“I’m not playing,” Chan says. He sounds desperate. “I’m not kidding. I woke up in the middle of the night with the shocking realization and I came over here to tell you. I’m not kidding.”

Seungsik furrows his eyebrows.

“Feelings don’t come that quickly,” he says. It’s obvious that he doesn’t believe him. “You’re probably just having a weird dream because I told you that I liked you, Chan.”

Chan sighs.

“What if it’s _not_ new, though?” he asks. “What if I started thinking about this because I wanted to have what Sejun and Subin have? With you?” He takes a breath, “What if I asked you why you’ve never had a crush of me because there’s a part of me that wanted you to like me because I like you?”

Seungsik shifts his weight. He frowns, “But, you didn’t.”

“Seungsik, I think I like you,” he says. “For real. I just never noticed.”

“This sounds like you had a nightmare, Chan,” Seungsik says. He takes Chan’s arm into his own with a sigh and brushes past him. “Come, let’s wake you up a little. We can talk about this when you’re more awake. You sound like you _really_ need a drink.”

* * *

Seungsik sits Chan down at the kitchen table. He practically puts him in his seat with both arms gently rested on his shoulders. He looks tired, and the white LCD screen on his microwave displays the reason. It’s almost four in the morning and he has to deal with Chan.

Chan doesn’t know if Seungsik is tired because of the time or if he’s tired of him.

After having an epiphany about his suppressed feelings for his best friend though, Chan hopes it isn’t the latter. He _really_ hopes it isn’t the latter.

Seungsik opens the fridge and pours them both glasses of chocolate milk.

He sets them down on the table. He slides one of the glasses over to Chan, and suddenly it feels like they’re eighteen again—late nights in their shared university dorm, stressing about assignments over glasses of chocolate milk and whatever snacks they kept hidden in their desk drawers.

“Okay,” he says. He slides into the seat across from Chan, “Let’s talk.”

Chan stares at him blankly.

“I don’t even know how to start,” Chan says.

Seungsik chuckles. He rests his cheek in his palm and leans his elbow against the table.

“Let’s talk about you,” he says. His eyes flicker over Chan’s expression before he says anything more. He asks, “Did you have a dream that we were dating or something? Did your conscious feel bad for me and try to trick you into thinking that you liked me?”

“It’s really not that, Sik,” he says. “I didn’t have a dream.”

Seungsik purses his lips in a frown.

“I find that really hard to believe.”

“I’m telling you, I’m just an idiot,” Chan says. Seungsik scrunches up his nose and nudges the glass of chocolate milk closer to Chan.

“Take a sip,” he says. “This isn’t the time to insult yourself.”

Chan sighs. He takes a small sip of the chocolate milk and puts the glass down.

“Seungsik, I like you.”

“No, you don’t,” Seungsik tells him.

Chan groans, “Why don’t you believe me?”

Seungsik sighs. He frowns, “I told you, Chan. You’re probably having mixed emotions because I told you that I like you and your consciousness is trying to convince you that you like me.”

“I like you, Seungsik.” Chan firmly repeats him. He shakes his head, “It’s not my consciousness trying to trick me into believing anything. _I like you._ ”

“No,” Seungsik shakes his head. He huffs out a laugh that sounds more like air. “You don’t.”

“I do,” he says. He huffs, tiredly. “How can I prove it to you? How can I prove that I like you?”

Seungsik sighs.

“Finish your glass of milk,” he says. “You’re drunk.”

Chan gapes at him.

“I didn’t drink!”

“I know,” Seungsik says. He taps his fingers against his own cheek, humming. “But you’re not in your right mind. There must be a ghost in this house that fed you alcohol in your sleep.”

“Why are you so against this?” Chan whines, “Don’t you _want_ me to like you?”

Seungsik stares at him. It’s almost unreadable.

Chan doesn’t know what to expect.

He doesn’t know what Seungsik’s expression is supposed to mean. And honestly, he didn’t know what he was expecting when he rushed to Seungsik’s bedroom in the middle of the night to confess his feelings because he felt like he made a huge mistake when rejecting him.

Chan blinks. _Twice_.

Then, he gasps in horror.

 _“Oh my God,”_ he says. He clutches his chest with his hands, dramatically. His eyes are wide and if he weren’t so dramatic, he might look genuinely horrified for his life. “You _don’t_ like me, do you? It was just a joke, wasn’t it? Oh my _God._ ”

Seungsik closes his eyes and sighs. He downs his glass of chocolate milk like it’s a shot of hard liquor. The exhausted expression on Seungsik’s face really makes him look like he needs a can of beer and not chocolate milk.

“No,” Seungsik replies. “It wasn’t a joke. I like you, Chan.”

A silence settles between them. A beat of silence, just short enough for Seungsik to remember what he said when he poured his heart out to his best friend.

Seungsik frowns, “I _told_ you that you’re the person I’m in love with. Why would that be a joke?”

Chan helplessly gapes at him.

“Then?” he says, “Why don’t you want me to like you back?”

Seungsik presses his fingers to his temples. He exhales.

“It’s not that I don’t _want_ you to like me back, Chan,” he says. He sits back and leans against the counter. “I do. I _do_ want you to like me back. I would love it if you liked me back. Why wouldn’t I?”

Seungsik continues, “But I don’t want you to think that you like me back because you’re hallucinating or something.” He sighs, “I just told you that I like you and you’re _such_ an amazing friend that you would do anything to make sure I’m not upset. You _would_ ponder over how to make sure I don’t break my own heart having feelings for you. And I don’t want to get my hopes up and have my heart crushed at the end of this because you weren’t thinking straight.”

Seungsik shifts uncomfortably on the seat.

“I don’t want you to unintentionally break my heart, Chan,” he says. “You wouldn’t do that to me. I don’t want you to do it without thinking.”

He looks at Chan and there’s a tenderness in his eyes that looks fragile. He sighs, “You promised you wouldn’t let my feelings change anything between us, Chan. They really don’t have to.”

Chan frowns.

He clasps his fingers together and drops them into his lap.

“But what if I want things to change between us because I like you, too? This really isn’t because I feel bad for not liking you back,” he says. “I really think I like you, Sik.”

Seungsik exhales.

“Finish your milk,” he says. He gets up from the chair and turns around to push it in. He leans against the back of the chair and looks at Chan. “Just leave it in the sink. I can wash it in the morning. We both need some sleep.”

A pause.

“Sik, are you mad at me?” Chan asks. He stares at him, eyes wide and sad.

Seungsik pauses. He meets Chan’s eyes for a brief moment. And then, he shakes his head.

“No,” he says. “I’m not mad at you. I just think you need some sleep.”

Chan pouts. He looks down at his hands.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep,” he says. “Sik, can we—?”

 _“No.”_ The response comes quicker than Chan can finish the sentence. Seungsik knows what he means to ask before he finishes, and Seungsik’s response is firm.

Chan frowns. He drops his hands into his lap.

Quietly, he asks, “Are you sure you’re not mad at me?”

Seungsik looks at him. He runs his fingers through his hair and heaves out a tired breath.

“I’m sure,” he says. “I think you need a little space, Chan. We can’t cuddle.”

Chan deflates. He looks down at his hands again.

He nods, “Okay,” he murmurs. “Goodnight, Sik.”

Seungsik spares him one last glance before he turns to leave the kitchen.

Before he leaves Chan’s line of sight, he turns to look over his shoulder.

“Don’t stay up too late thinking,” he says. “And don’t forget to turn off the lights when you leave.”

Chan nods his head.

“Goodnight, Chan,” Seungsik says. “Sleep well.”

* * *

Chan doesn’t sleep very well.

He can’t really sleep well when Seungsik refuses to believe that he likes him.

And he supposes that it’s hard to believe when someone that you’ve nursed age-old feelings for suddenly returns your feelings.

But he’s insistent and he can’t understand why Seungsik doesn’t believe him.

Or well, Seungsik already explained himself to him. And it makes sense.

 _It makes sense._ It makes sense that Seungsik doesn’t want to believe him because he’s afraid of being hurt, but Chan wants to hold his face between his hands and kiss his smiling lips.

He doesn’t see how he could be interpreting his own feelings wrong. He needed a little jumpstart in the form of Seungsik’s confession to really get his shit together, but he’s self-aware enough to know what the fluttering in his chest when he thinks about Seungsik means.

It certainly _feels_ like he has a massive crush on Seungsik.

He thinks about Seungsik’s smile and he’s overwhelmed with this fluttering feeling that tells him he wants to kiss him. If he thinks about kissing any of his other friends, it’s repulsive. But with Seungsik, it makes his heart flutter and he _wants_ to try it. That needs to mean something.

He likes him. He can’t think of any other explanation for his feelings.

 _It’s love._ Or at least, it’s a really big crush that he doesn’t think he’ll be getting over anytime soon.

The only issue with figuring out his feelings is getting Seungsik to believe him. He doesn’t need to worry about Seungsik not returning his feelings because he _knows_ that he does. It’s just a matter of convincing Seungsik that he’s sincere.

And he can’t help but wonder if it was _this_ hard for Sejun and Subin.

 _Is it so hard to have a crush on your best friend?_ It looks so easy on television and in books.

Sejun and Subin made it look so easy, too.

It doesn’t seem like it’s easy with Seungsik. Seungsik is difficult, but rightfully so.

Chan wakes up at eight in the morning to the smell of pancakes and the reminder that he still has unresolved feelings for the man making pancakes in the kitchen.

Chan rolls over on the bed and groans.

He nearly runs into a wall on his way to the bathroom, but he eventually makes his way to the kitchen after washing up.

The sight that greets him is a familiar one.

It’s familiar because it’s something he has a million times over.

It’s something that reminds him of the days when they still lived together. It’s something that he saw throughout their undergraduate years.

It’s Seungsik standing in front of the stove with his bear-printed apron tied around his waist with a neat bow. This time, when Chan looks at him, he recognizes the blossoming feeling of warm familiarity as affection.

Seungsik hears him coming in.

“Good morning,” Seungsik greets him. He doesn’t turn to look at him.

“Hi,” Chan replies. He inches into the kitchen behind Seungsik.

Then, peering over Seungsik’s shoulder to look at the pan, Chan comfortably wraps his arms around the other man’s waist. Seungsik freezes in his arms.

“How did you sleep?” he asks. Seungsik’s breathing stutters.

“Um,” he starts. He tries to respond to the question, but he falters every time he tries. After three attempts, he turns to look at Chan over his shoulder. Flustered, he whispers, “What are you doing?”

“Hugging you,” Chan replies, simply.

Seungsik stares at him, bewildered. “Why?”

“I wanted to,” Chan says. “I looked at you and I just felt like hugging you.”

He rests his chin on Seungsik’s shoulder and turns to look at him. “Why? Do you hate it?”

Seungsik’s cheeks are flushed a light pink. He’s avoiding Chan’s eyes.

“No,” he murmurs. “I don’t hate it.”

“Good,” Chan replies. “I wasn’t planning on letting you go.”

There’s a silence between them and all Chan hears is the soft sound of Seungsik’s breathing and the sizzle of butter against the pan. He thinks this is something he can get used to.

Seungsik breaks the silence.

“You’re being so weirdly affectionate,” Seungsik mutters. He flips the pancake over and turns the heat down. And then, he rests both of his hands on top of Chan’s. “This is so strange.”

Chan hums, “Is it?” He tilts his head, “I thought I told you that I liked you.”

Seungsik freezes.

“That wasn’t a dream?”

Chan turns his head to look at him. And with his chin perched on Seungsik’s shoulder, their faces are so close together. Chan feels the way that Seungsik takes a breath when their eyes meet.

“Did you dream that I confessed to you?” Chan asks. His voice is a whisper, “Or did you think last night was a dream?”

Seungsik’s eyes are wide. His cheeks are pink, and Chan can see his ears turning red.

 _It’s cute._ He feels affection bloom in his chest.

He grins, “You’re so cute, Sik.”

Flustered, Seungsik swats at him. “Chan, what are you doing? Don’t tease me like that.”

Chan frowns.

“I’m not teasing,” he says. “I’m being honest. You’re really cute.”

With his chest pressed against Seungsik’s back, he can feel the way that the other man’s heartbeat picks up. He can hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears and he wonders if Seungsik can feel it.

For a second, Seungsik holds his breath.

“You really like me?” Seungsik breathes out. “You haven’t changed your mind?”

Chan tightens his grip around Seungsik’s waist briefly, squeezing him in his arms.

He exhales, “Yes. I really like you. I should have realized it sooner, I think.”

“This isn’t some kind of sick prank?” Seungsik asks. The way he speaks is so cautious. He looks so uncertain of everything around him and Chan hates the way it looks on him—he’s overwhelmed with the want to smooth out the crease between Seungsik’s eyebrows with his thumb. He sounds so fragile that Chan wants to hold him in his arms forever and make sure nothing can hurt him. “You really like me? You’re sure about it?”

Chan moves. He turns Seungsik around in his arms and puts his hands on his shoulders.

“I’m going to be honest with you, Seungsik, I can barely believe it myself,” Chan says. He shakes his head with a quiet laugh. It’s one of disbelief. He says, “I didn’t think I had any special feelings for you, but I feel so happy when I’m with you and I didn’t know what that meant until now. Maybe I’m just stupid and I don’t know how to deal with feelings when I have them. I thought I was just happy because I love you as a friend; I thought it was just because I’m _so_ comfortable with you.”

He takes a breath, “But I really thought about it last night—or maybe I dreamed about it. Whatever it was, though, I woke up with the realization that friends don’t want to kiss each other the way that _I_ want to kiss _you_. It’s all a crazy epiphany I just experienced last night, but I swear that it’s not because I feel bad for liking you back. It’s not that because I _do_ like you back.”

He looks him in the eyes and says, “Kang Seungsik, I’m certain that I like you.”

The tension hangs between them for a moment and Chan feels his heart pounding in his chest. He doesn’t know what to expect. He supposes this is what Seungsik felt when he confessed to him last night, the uncertainty of what comes next.

Chan doesn’t function as well as Seungsik under pressure, though. He swallows, nervously.

Quietly, he asks, “Will you believe me?”

It feels cheesy when it leaves his lips, but his heart is pounding in his chest and he isn’t sure that he cares that he sounds cheesy. All he wants is for Seungsik to believe him. All he _needs_ is for Seungsik to trust that his feelings are something real.

Seungsik searches his eyes for a moment, unsure of himself.

He watches the way that Seungsik’s eyes flicker across his face.

Chan feels himself holding his breath in anticipation.

He doesn’t know if he can wait any longer.

(He doesn’t know if he can wait any longer when he knows their feelings are mutual.)

Seungsik’s response is a soft breathless whisper, “Okay, I believe you.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Chan swallows.

His grip on Seungsik’s shoulders tighten and he looks up at him, hopefully.

“Can I kiss you, now?”

“So soon?”

“I’ve been thinking about it since last night,” Chan admits. “Let me have this.”

“Really?” Seungsik looks surprised.

Chan pushes him gently, “Stop. You’re going to make me shy.”

“You thought about kissing me.”

“As if you haven’t,” Chan retorts.

Seungsik chuckles. He tilts his head, “I think that’s a _little_ bit of a different story. You only discovered your crush on me last night. I’ve had a lot more time to pine over wanting to kiss you.”

“Will you _please_ shut up and let me kiss you?” Chan groans. “This isn’t a competition, Sik.”

Seungsik’s lips curve into a small smile and he nods.

“Come here,” he says. “Kiss me.”

It makes his heart flutter. His heart skips a beat in his chest and he takes a breath before he moves. Chan’s hands move from their place on Seungsik’s shoulders to gently wrap around his neck.

It almost seems to happen in slow motion. Chan’s heartbeat moves faster with every passing second and he feels like he might pass out from the overwhelming nerves.

Chan sees sparks when their lips meet. It feels like a rush that he’s been waiting so long for. It feels like falling from the highest point of a rollercoaster after the longest build-up to the top.

The first kiss is soft and gentle. It’s barely a brush of their lips, a quick brush that’s gone as quickly as it comes. Seungsik’s lips are soft and Chan can’t get enough of the feeling of their lips pressed together. He chases Seungsik’s lips when they move away.

Seungsik pulls him closer, flush against his body, and Chan wraps his arms around Seungsik’s neck.

He kisses him slowly like he’s afraid to rush into it. Every kiss is slow and gentle. He feels the butterflies exploding in his chest with every brush of their lips. But as softly as they kiss, Chan feels electricity when Seungsik’s fingertips brush against his jaw to gently tilt his head to deepen their kiss.

It feels like everything is coming together when he kisses Seungsik.

When they finally part, Seungsik leans his forehead against Chan’s and smiles. It’s soft and gentle and Chan has flashbacks to the smile he saw when he woke up in the middle of the night with the realization that he’s in love with this smile; with Seungsik.

“Are we ready for breakfast now?” Seungsik asks. He chuckles quietly.

“One more,” Chan murmurs. He leans up to steal a quick kiss from Seungsik’s lips.

Seungsik’s smile never fades. He shakes his head in amusement and then, he leans in to press a quick kiss to Chan’s cheek. Chan beams at the soft press of Seungsik’s lips.

Seungsik’s thumb softly brushes over his cheek, just over the spot he just kissed, and it stops just over his lower lip. Seungsik’s eyes linger on him for a moment. His gaze is soft and Chan feels his heart pounding in his chest. For a moment, Chan thinks that Seungsik is going to kiss him again.

“No more,” Seungsik says. “The pancakes are going to get cold.”

Chan deflates.

Seungsik laughs at him.

* * *

It’s a heart-fluttering change in their relationship. It’s exciting.

It’s not something that Chan would have ever seen coming. He’s still reeling from it all when they’re sitting at the table with stacks of fluffy pancakes in front of them. His mind is still floating around the fact that they were _just_ kissing on the other side of the kitchen.

He can barely look Seungsik in the eye without wanting to burst into giggles.

Chan glances at Seungsik, nervously. He plays with his fork.

“What is it?” Seungsik asks him. He looks amused, but Chan can see the way happiness still glitters in his eyes when he looks at him. “What are you thinking about that has you so nervous?”

Chan spins his fork between his fingers and flashes him a shy smile.

“Um,” he starts. Seungsik hums, urging him to continue speaking. “Does this make us boyfriends?”

Seungsik drops his fork and laughs. He looks at Chan with soft eyes, filled with affection. It takes Chan a second to really register that nothing about that gaze has changed.

_As long as he could remember, Seungsik looked at him with those eyes. He just never realized what it meant._

“I sure hope so,” he replies. “You better tell me if it doesn’t. And if you don’t, you’re going to be stuck with me for a while. This is your only chance.”

Chan hides his grin. He looks down at his plate and stabs his fork into the pancake.

“I like being stuck with you,” he says. “I always have.”

And usually, he’d say that it’s because Seungsik is his best friend.

This time, he gets to start saying that it’s because Seungsik is his _boyfriend_.

His heart flutters in his chest and he giggles.

Seungsik tilts his head. His voice is soft when he asks, “What’s so funny?”

Chan smiles. He giggles behind his hand like a thrilled five-year-old who has been gifted the exact item he wrote on his holiday wish list.

“It’s not funny,” he says, “It’s just that you’re my boyfriend.”

Seungsik chuckles.

“Yeah,” he replies. He rests his chin in his palm and leans against the table, staring at Chan. The fondness in Seungsik’s eyes makes his heart explode. “I’m your boyfriend.”


End file.
